Of Honor and Gunpowder
by In Pieces
Summary: "Honor is what you lack; you have no dignity, character or respect towards your weapon and yourself, making you face idiotic decisions with the desperate mentality of filling your self-image with arrogant demeanors. Now tell me, if I take your precious gun away, what will become of you?"


The full moon shone brightly in the night sky, providing enough light to illuminate the quiet streets of the small town he was in. His long blue coat ruffled with the chilly wind as he calmly walked on the pebbled road with silent and confident steps ignoring the tumult the gusts of wind and fallen leaves did, breaking the silence that adorned the night in a mirage of a passive and unaltered land instead of the resurging battlefield it had been turned into.

Still, among the wreckage and torn state of the town laid a piece of information buried deep in their pathetic excuse of a library. Humans were ignorant, unobservant; if they had a remote idea of the power that was hidden between the pages of that ancient book that they had forgotten for its mangled state and unintelligible language claiming that the cover was not appealing enough to be at display alongside the pitiful excuses of literature they claimed were best sellers, they would have kept it in a safe, if not in a museum. Not that it truly mattered anyway; their attempts to stop him from taking that valuable piece would be futile.

He could feel a presence close-by, one so insignificant and benign that he didn't even bother to acknowledge until it grew motivated and the low-key posture it managed to accomplish dissolved in bold aggravation.

"Hey, Frosty. How about you turn around and hand over what's in your pockets if you don't want a bullet in your head?" A female voice spoke behind him loudly, the sound echoing through the crumbling walls of the buildings and intertwining with the whispers of the leaves at their feet.

Did that human had the effrontery of threatening _him_, the son of Sparda, with an absurd weapon acting as if she had any control over him? Ridiculous.

There was a side of him fueled by bloodlust that beckoned him to fight, to shed blood and satisfy that primal desire that Demons were known for, show her how he could overpower her with a flick of his wrist and end it all. Yet, his irritation spiked at her outburst and rage took over his mind. He had traveled a long path to reach the forsaken town so he could finally place the pieces of the puzzle together to form the image he sought; her foolishness wasn't going to lead to a slaughter that would only prove that he found what he desired after keeping his business in the shadows so the curious and unworthy would overlook his actions.

Vergil turned slowly towards the source of the voice in a smooth and elegant movement as he kept a hand loosely on the grip of his elegant katana, ready to strike if he was pushed to such action. He glared at the teen in front of him, her tattered clothes looking too big for her sickly petite body as she pointed a handgun at him. He chuckled bitterly, the deep noise that emanated from him made the girl flinch. The situation he was in was laughable in a pathetic way.

"You dare to challenge me with a gun, the most dishonorable weapon in existence." He spoke nonchalant with an undertone of false distress. The girl eyed him up and down, her eyes lingering on the scabbard that held Yamato.

"Oh tell me, wannabe samurai, what makes my weapon so different from yours? They both serve the same purpose: kill. Not to mention mine does it quicker." Her voice was faltering and quieter than the first time she decided to speak; her posture changed abruptly as she straightened, trying to show imposing body language to counteract the hesitation that was building up on her.

"Don't be simplistic, girl. You hide yourself behind a fragile carcass of metal and gunpowder that distances you from your enemy in a disgraceful manner that is only worthy for the lowest scum. A blade provides a personal attack, it requires experience, perfection, meticulous planning of your moves as well as your opponents in a reasonable fight." His icy eyes glared at her with despair for even thinking that the lousy weapon she used with pride would be at level with his'. "The difference between your weapon and mine, to put it simply for your narrow mind, is that mine cannot be utilized by an infant and produce the same results as your usage would."

"What do you know about honor?" She cried out, clearly startled by his words as she made a waving gesture with the gun on her hands. "In war and a fight all resources are allowed, the honor comes after you fought and end up as the victor."

"Honor is what you lack," Vergil said, his glare intensifying as an already familiar feeling of repugnance filling his body. He walked over to the girl whose hands started to tremble slightly due to the weight on her hands and continued in a low and threating voice. "You have no dignity, character or respect towards your weapon and yourself, making you face idiotic decisions with the desperate mentality of filling your self-image with arrogant demeanors. Now tell me, if I take your precious gun away, what will become of you?"

Her face scrunched with anger as she let out a battle cry and fired her weapon at his chest, Vergil took Yamato out of its black scabbard in a movement so swift that her mind couldn't comprehend until the gold colored bullet laid perfectly intact beside the tip of his blade in the ground alongside his brown boots. She gaped at the ground with her mouth parted in surprise as her eyes started to widen in fear. She blinked, trying to let the imagine sink in before making an abrupt motion to fire the weapon again and was greeted by the tip of Yamato scarce inches from her face as the now inoperable and sliced weapon fell from her hand to the ground with a metallic thud, leaving her powerless.

"You're nothing but a weakling ready to flee at the loss of such cowardly weapon."

She took a cautionary step back. "You are not human, are you?"

Vergil ignored her question as he placed his katana back on the scabbard. "You reek of fear; at last you found the suitable response to this experience. Now leave." He commanded and spun to continue his journey.

"No," Her voice stated with newly found courage. He growled at her stubbornness; precious time had been wasted, Vergil couldn't afford to waste even more on her childish endeavors. "If I am so pathetic and worthless, then why don't you just kill me right here and now?" She continued.

He stopped on his tracks and looked at her over his shoulder. "What honor would I possess if I dispose the life of a troubled and unarmed child incapable of defending herself?"

She watched powerlessly as he continued to walk down the street, blending into the shadows. She picked up the remains of her gun and stared at the now empty street in front of her.

"Thanks, I guess." She muttered to thin air.

* * *

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it.

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and its characters belong to Capcom.


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